Aurora’s eyes darkened as she turned them on Dorthna. “What?”
A smile almost touched Dorthna’s lips but he stopped it. It was always interesting to see how she hovered on the edge of strategic violence anytime anyone stepped on the topic of her family in any kind of negative light.
“Motherly,” he repeated. “It’s been two days and you haven’t been very motherly to the kids.”
She frowned at him. “What do you mean by that?”
Aurora was calmer now, more controlled. There was no murder in her eyes.
“Since you came back have you come into physical contact with Melmarc?” Dorthna asked.
“Melmarc doesn’t really like being touched so much,” she said.
“True,” Dorthna agreed. “But unlike Ark, he always allows it.”
Aurora looked away.
Humans, Dorthna thought. Always so…
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have the word to finish the sentence. But one thing was for certain; humans had always intrigued him. They could be as smart as they could be stupid. Sometimes they did things that helped him understand why they continued to evolve no matter where they were. Other times they did things that made him wonder how they were still not extinct.
A mother who had been more than willing to give up her Oath-hood and let her world be damned for her children was now acting oddly around her own child just because he was an [August Intruder].
“Does it bother you that much?” he asked.
Aurora bit down on her lower lip. Dorthna could see her shame.
She can’t help it, he noted. She’s realized what she’s been doing but she can’t help it.
Dorthna leaned forward on the couch he was seating on, interlocking his fingers. “This is not me looking for trouble or anything like that. This is a genuine question. Does it bother you so much to be the mother of an [August Intruder]?”
Aurora blanked as if it was a stupid question. “No,” she answered. “Of course not.”
Standing in front of him with that confused expression on her face was very human like. This was one of the reasons Dorthna had chosen this family, although he’d met them before they’d become this family. But it was, ultimately, only one of the reasons.
“Then why haven’t you been very motherly?”
“Because she’s ashamed.”
Dorthna didn’t bother turning his head at the sound of Madness’ deep baritone. The Oath was lying down on the bed, eyes closed. He laid on his side in a fetus position with his knees drawn all the way up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He looked like a gigantic baby on a bed.
Why?
Most likely because.
“Shame?” Dorthna turned the word about in his mouth, tasted it. “I don’t get it.”
Knowing that Madness was as likely to answer as he was as unlikely to answer, he didn’t bother waiting for the man. There were only four people alive that could ask the Oath a question and get an answer: his three children and his wife.
The children were definitely going to get an answer to any question asked while his wife was only more likely than others to get an answer.
“I may be treading on dangerous paths here,” Dorthna said to Aurora. “Your kind, I have learnt, can be very… volatile when it comes to their young. And since I do not have a mother, motherly instincts have often tended to confuse me.”
He saw the surprise on her face at the mention of a parental figure in relation to himself.
“You don’t have a mother?” she asked, clearly unable to stop herself.
“I do not.”
“She died?” Aurora asked, her expression softening. “Or you just do not know where she is?”
Dorthna cocked a brow. It was stupid of her to allow such a simple piece of information affect her so easily.
She was catholic so it was easier for him to explain.
“Do you know the story of Melchizedek from your holy book?” he asked.
“Melchizedek,” she mused. “I think I do.”
“The priest forever,” Madness said from his bed.
Aurora’s expression brightened with recognition. “A priest like Melchizedek of old.”
“Psalm chapter one hundred and ten verse four,” Madness finished before falling back into silence.
Dorthna smiled at their synchronicity. A lot of people he had once known would never believe him if he told them that there were two Oaths, one of Madness and one of War, that were so in sync and so in love.
They had no idea how impossible their very connective existence was in the wider scheme of existence. They were arguably an existential anomaly. Perhaps impossible wasn’t the word. Improbable seemed to be more fitting.
“Yes,” Dorthna said. “That guy. I’m more like him.”
“How?” Aurora asked.
Dorthna pointed casually at the lying Madness a split moment before the Oath spoke.
“The priest forever is without genealogy,” Madness said. “No recorded father or mother.”
Aurora’s brows drew together. “You don’t have a mother or father?”
He had spent enough time with both Oaths to know how Madness worked. He could be baited when it came to his family. However, it remained difficult to know what specifically you had to do to successfully bait him.
Even now, Dorthna was still learning how to bait him. It was a part of the little things he used to entertain himself.
“I said I was like the old man,” Dorthna pointed out. “Not that I’m the old man. What we have in common is that we don’t have mothers. I’ve got a dad.”
“How does that work?”
“Well… it’s like—”
Madness sat up suddenly, surprising them. “Melchizedek is real?”
“That’s not the point of the conversation,” Dorthna said simply. “I think we ended up derailing at some point. Let’s go back to the beginning. What are you ashamed of, human?”
Madness remained sitting for a little longer before rolling off the bed and sitting on the ground. Aurora looked at him with a fond smile before turning back to Dorthna.
“I used to be an Oath,” she said, a little hesitantly. “Then I gave it up to protect my children. Now, here I am, again. And the one thing I need to protect my kids is the one thing I gave up to protect them.”
Dorthna shook his head. “Still not seeing the problem.”
“I’m lesser because I couldn’t be strong enough to remain one of the most powerful beings in the world and still protect my children.”
“So you couldn’t be it all,” Dorthna mused.
Aurora nodded. “Yes.”
Dorthna sighed in exasperation. “Well, that’s stupid.”
“Really?” She cocked a brow at him. “Last time I checked, you basically achieved everything.”
“It’s a little unreasonable to compare yourself to me. You do know that, right?” Dorthna asked. “It’s your hubris talking.”
“If we knew what exactly you were, I’d know if it is really hubris.”
Dorthna smirked. “Didn’t the system tell you when you found me?”
He knew for a fact that it did not. The system had no designation for what he was, neither did it have a real designation for the curse that he was afflicted with.
Aurora shot him a dark look, behind it Dorthna could see a whisper of the Oath of War. The woman might’ve given up her Oath but it had left enough of itself in her. There was no surprise there since you had to embody the concept before becoming the Oath. You were a part of the Oath before you became the Oath.
It was an interesting thing.
“Who is older?” Madness asked. “You or Melchizedek?”
Dorthna looked at him then at Aurora.
Aurora shrugged as if the question was completely reasonable.
Dorthna sighed. “Of all the things your mind is capable of latching onto so very easily it has to be your religious obsessions. Madness, you’ve fought angels.”
Madness looked away. His face was a mask, but Dorthna knew he was uncomfortable about the fact that he’d had to fight against angels. It had really shaken up his religious beliefs.
“Anyway,” Dorthna continued, “I actually have no idea. As I was saying, you should know by now that the only way you’ll ever find out what I am is by yourself. Besides, haven’t you been listening to your kids growing up? I’m the family mystery.”
Dorthna would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy being known as the family mystery. He had to admit that kids were interesting.
Aurora’s expression dipped again, and Dorthna was certain that it had something to do with remembering what Melmarc had become.
Her reason for her reaction to it still didn’t make much sense to him, though.
“Wait,” she said, perking up suddenly. “You knew!”
The accusation in her voice was clear.
“Knew what?” Dorthna asked, knowing exactly what she was talking about.
Aurora pointed an accusatory finger at him. It was a little disrespectful, but he was willing to let it slide.
“You knew that Melmarc was going to become the [August Intruder]. That’s why you’ve been asking me all those questions about becoming an Oath again.”
“Even at my peak I was nigh omniscient,” Dorthna pointed out. “Emphasis on nigh. Right now, I’m less than a shell of myself.”
“So why have you been asking me if I would become an Oath again if given the chance?”
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He shrugged. “Curiosity? It’s always fun to know what your choice will be.”
Madness gave him a look and Dorthna almost laughed. The man had a way of detecting disharmony even without his Oath ability. It was often impressive that it sometimes worked on him.
“By the way, did you know that one of your Oaths is trying to send out a message?” Dorthna asked, moving the conversation along. “Mel got a notification.”
“He told us,” Aurora said.
“And what did you advise him to do?”
“I told him to leave it there.”
Dorthna stroked his jaw in thought. “So he should neither reject or allow. You’re trying to make your Oaths stew. Is it really a good idea to look for their trouble right now?”
“Let them stew,” Aurora scowled. “Do you know what the General stationed with me said when I got out of the portal?”
Dorthna shrugged. What part of nigh omniscient didn’t she… oh… it was rhetorical.
“He said that all he knew was that David had had an altercation with an Oath.” She threw her hands up in a huff. “Those assholes were doing their best to downplay what had happened so badly that they even went as far as…”
Dorthna remained seated, waited. It always intrigued him whenever she showed these signs.
Aurora frowned, bit down on her lower lip. “It doesn’t matter.”
This right here was what continued to convince Dorthna that she would become the Oath of War again, even before she’d gotten the incentive of the [August Intruder]. It was in the way she instinctively found the logic in certain things no matter how high her emotions ran.
Right now, she’d paused because she’d seen the logic in keeping things as tightly controlled as possible, but she’d stopped herself from voicing it. Why?
Because she wants her motherly instincts and the emotions born from them to always override her Oath-ly emotions and instincts.
Dorthna wasn’t sure when last he’d seen an Oath fight against being an Oath so desperately.
“So you didn’t know that Mel was going to become the [August Intruder]?” she asked him.
“No, not until he got his class.”
“Why?”
Dorthna sat back and relaxed calmly with his back against the backrest of the couch. “It is time to renegotiate our contract.”
He could see the look of disbelief on Aurora’s face, but he could not bring himself to care for it. In his honest opinion, he had indulged them enough.
“But we have a standing contract,” Aurora insisted. “It has not—”
“Careful, human,” Dorthna warned. “I have upheld my end of the contract to the very end. And seeing as I have done a few things more than agreed upon, you are lucky that I’m not asking for compensation.”
Madness’ attention sharpened on the conversation now, and Dorthna turned to look at him. His conversation with Aurora was over. Now, he spoke only to the person present who could continue it.
“I have protected your home in your absence,” Dorthna said to Madness. “And often times in your presence. The deal was that I care for your children until they are of adult age or have reached the status of Gifted, should they ever. Is this correct?”
Madness nodded once.
This was why Dorthna liked Oaths of Madness, they were concise, they were certain. They were the true sanity in a sea of madness, not the pretentiousness that was the human race.
To him the Oaths of Madness were the truest of sentient beings.
“Ninra is still in school,” Aurora pointed out.
Dorthna gritted his teeth. “She is older than the age of eighteen. On your world, in your country, eighteen makes her an adult.”
He watched panic grow on her face. Madness remained expressionless.
“The deal,” Dorthna continued, “was that once the terms are settled, I would move on. However, I am willing to renegotiate.”
“David cannot continue to pay the price alone,” Aurora pointed out. “It will be too much for one Oath.”
“He’s been doing it well enough for a while now,” Dorthna pointed out. “Ever since you gave up your Oath-hood.”
Aurora paled. “And it has been enough to protect the house.” She looked at her husband. “How?”
Dorthna snorted in amusement. “You genuinely believe that his paltry payments have been the mana powering the spell I cast over your home and the entire town? A spell capable of disrupting the minds of all Oaths and [Telepaths] on your world? Human, please tell me you do not genuinely believe this.”
“But… but…” her voice cracked as she tried to grasp at straws.
Her uncertainty irked Dorthna slightly, and he realized once more that despite the years he’d spent around them, unlike their children, he still had not grown fond of their human side. Even as an Oath, Aurora had displayed her humanity every now and again, but Madness had no humanity to display anymore. His Oath-hood required his constant attention.
If only he would just give into it.
“I understand that you found me amongst the angels, human,” Dorthna said, trying to be civil for old time’s sake. “But do not mistake me for some kind of guardian angel. I do not protect your children for free. Madness has continued to pay the price for that. However, I fear that even he can no longer pay the price for the renegotiation.”
“Then who is going to…” Aurora’s voice trailed off in realization and she shook her head. “No. Never. I won’t allow it.”
“I would say that you do not have a say in this matter, but your husband actually listens to you.” Dorthna sighed. “But I will like to point out one thing. I do not intend to be as strict as I was last time. Where the last deal was all about my services costing you, this one actually proves beneficial for me. As such, this will be a negotiation. I am willing to bend on some aspects of it.”
“And what will a [Mage] need from children?” Aurora asked. “What use will they be to a [Ma—”
“DO NOT CALL ME THAT!” Dorthna roared, leaving his seat.
Aurora took a step away from him. Madness was already on his feet, a single step away from the both of them, ready for violence.
“Do not,” Dorthna repeated, voice calmer this time, “call me that. I am not a [Mage].”
Aurora watched him as if she was watching a wild beast she knew would rip her to shreds. Madness, however, watched him like a duty he had to accomplish. A hit. An enemy to be put down.
Madness, it seemed, had not forgotten what he was capable of.
“The system designates your class as [Mage],” Madness said simply.
Dorthna raised his head to the ceiling and stared at it for a while. He was certain that he had a forlorn look in his eyes.
He fell back on his chair. “The [Mage] class is a paltry imitation of what I once was,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Sometimes I believe that my class shows as that only because someone out there wishes to belittle me. To mock me.”
“Then what are you?” Aurora asked, her voice far more cautious than her husbands.
“Emotional,” Dorthna said simply. “It will not be good for your negotiations. I will plead that you do not continue to make me emotional.”
“If the [Mage] class is a paltry imitation of what you are,” Madness said, seemingly unfazed by Dorthna’s words. “What does that make the [Enchanter] class?”
Dorthna leaned his head back against the chair and kept his eyes to the ceiling. He watched its patterns or lack thereof. After all, they were barely perceptible with simple eyes.
“The [Mage] class,” he said. “Is the fickle being’s attempt at reaching the peak of their existence. Arguably, the [Mages] are the strongest form of humans before Oath-hood. The [Enchanter] is what a person becomes when they should’ve become a [Mage] but could not. They are nothing but weak [Mages]. The consolation prize.”
“And the [Faker]?”
The question brought a smile to Dorthna’s face. If Melmarc wasn’t a [Faker] he would’ve wondered why Madness was asking about it.
“Your class is a more interesting class than most people give it credit,” Dorthna said.
“Why?” Aurora asked.
“Because it is what a human becomes when they aren’t supposed to have what it takes to become the peak of humanity but strives to become it, regardless.” Dorthna looked at Madness. “I’m sure you’ve never wondered why, but the reason you’re built like a tank but are a [Faker] is because evolution is nothing more than a series of constant innovative imitation. You, Madness, must’ve strived to be everything growing up.”
Aurora’s eyes bobbed in her head as she thought. “Does that mean the class can be the strongest class out there?”
“A fake is no more than an imitation. It is not a perfect copy. However,” Dorthna looked between the both of them, “whoever said that I fake cannot be better than the very think it is trying to imitate.”
A smile touched Aurora’s lips as she turned to her husband.
“Melmarc can get stronger,” she said in elation. “He can raise his class.”
“Our son is already strong,” Madness said simply. “I’ve seen what he is capable of.”
Aurora paused. “In the portal?”
Madness nodded slowly.
Dorthna waited as another sigh of relief washed over Aurora. This was the problem he had with dealing with humans. They could not stay on the task at hand. With the children he could understand.
They were children. They did not know better.
One’s an [August Intruder] and the other’s a [Demon King].
They weren’t children anymore.
“Are you done?” he asked Madness, interrupting whatever look-out session his wife was having with him. “I would like to get this done.”
“You said there was a benefit for you,” Aurora said.
“That is correct.”
“What’s the benefit?”
“That is entirely my business.”
“Does it have anything to do with why you keep collecting trash from the kids and doing terrible things like jumping off buildings?”
“Again,” Dorthna said simply. “That is my business.”
Once upon a time in his life, he would never have had to subject himself to being asked questions by Oaths.
How the mighty have fallen.
“Alright, then.” Aurora folded her arms. “Since you’ve already admitted that you will benefit from this, you’ll have to make your offer first. Tell us what service you plan on rendering, then what the cost for it is.”
“For starters, the same services I rendered still applies.”
“But you’ll have to also conceal the location of the house from [Intruders] and [Players] as well,” Aurora said.
Dorthna shook his head. “Can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will not be fair.”
“To who?”
“The [Intruders] and the [Players]. Imagine a [Player] walks into this world from a portal and their task is to kill the Oath of Madness. If Madness is home at the time, then their task is automatically failed. I will not put some random world through a Chaos Run that they could’ve avoided in my absence. The spell I’ve placed on this place does not change.”
“Then you cannot continue claiming two percent of my husband’s skill mastery every two months as payment.”
“My assistance has not changed and as such, the initial payment will not.” Dorthna paused. He really wanted a cup of hot water right now. The room was getting cold enough for it to make him slightly uncomfortable. “I will simply be adding a few more services.”
Aurora watched him through narrow lids, skeptical. “And what will those be?”
“I like Ninra, and since she’s the only child that is not Gifted, she’ll get a teleportation spell that pulls her back here in the event of a life-threatening risk.”
“Let it pull her to wherever you are instead,” Aurora said.
That elicited a raised brow from Dorthna. “Are you sure? I am not always in a safe environment.”
“We all know that there’s no one stronger than you on our world right now.” Aurora smirked as if she’d just won an argument. “As long as you’re an ally, there’s no place safer than where you are.”
Dorthna shrugged. He liked all their children but Ninra was his favorite of the three so he didn’t mind the adjustment.
“The second addition,” he said. “Is a spell on Mel.”
“I will also want him brought to you,” Aurora said quickly. “Not here. He’s an [August Intruder] now. His life is going to be a bit troublesome.”
Dorthna fought the urge to shake his head. The motherly instinct to protect their child at the risk of stifling their growth always amazed him.
“As an [August Intruder] danger is the only thing that will grow him,” he said. “The spell is not to save his life but to hide him from all the other Oaths.”
“I don’t understand,” Aurora said.
“As an Oath, simply coming into physical contact with him will alert you of what he is,” Dorthna explained. “I can make it so that that does not happen.”
“The teleportation would’ve been a better offer.”
“I cannot protect Mel from what he has chosen to become. This is his path. He will either grow through trials and tribulations or die trying. There are no other paths left to him.”
“And what about Ark?”
“What about him?”
“What will you do for him?”
Dorthna shrugged. “Nothing. You may not know this but Ark doesn’t really need any help.”
“He’s got a hole in his stomach.”
“And a demon that healed it with a few licks. Trust me, Ark’s the least of your worries. You cannot begin to fathom what he will be capable of.”
Aurora looked like she was going to argue the case but let it lie. She pressed her lips into a thin line and said nothing.
“What will it cost the kids?” she asked in resignation. “How many percent of their skill mastery will you take?”
“None.” Dorthna met her gaze. “I want something else.”
Aurora’s face twisted in worry. “What do you want?”
“[EP].”
…
Ark got up from his bed. It was the middle of the night, and while he could sense how cold the world was, he could not feel it. Temperature was no longer a problem that he had to deal with.
Getting up from his bed, he went down on his knees and spied under Melmarc’s bed. As expected, he found Spitfire balled up in one of Melmarc’s shirts, eyes closed.
Ark slipped his hand close to the demon and tapped the ground with a single finger in three quick bursts.
Spitfire’s eyes opened and it looked at him as if he was a nuisance. Ark couldn’t help but smile at its constant dislike for being taken away from Melmarc’s clothes.
You were the one that wanted it to grow attached to something of his.
“Alright, Spitfire,” he said in a soft voice. “If we’re going to try again, it’s got to be right now.”
Clearly unhappy, Spitfire unfurled itself from Melmarc’s clothes and crawled out from under his bed.
Standing in front of Ark, it shook itself free of its sleepiness and stared up at him. Melmarc had been right, Spitfire really was growing.
“At this rate you won’t be able to keep resting on top of my head.” Ark took a step away from it to give it some room to move. “Alright, let’s go. You’re sure mom and dad won’t be able to feel it?”
Spitfire looked up at him. <
“Good. And Mel?”
Spitfire scrambled up on Melmarc’s bed. Melmarc was not on his bed. Instead, he was lying down on the ground next to the reading table so that the wall was the only thing behind him.
It was the sixth night in a row that he was doing it, and Ark’s worry was only increasing.
I’ve put it off for too long. I’ll have to talk to him about it once I get back.
Whatever Melmarc had gone through inside his portal, it had left him with some trauma. Ark was sure of it. The problem was that he had a feeling that Melmarc wouldn’t want to meet with a therapist.
Personally, Ark liked therapists. They asked a lot of questions and he liked seeing their puzzled expressions when he gave them his answers. He didn’t always say outlandish things, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t mess around sometimes.
Melmarc on the other hand always seemed like he couldn’t be bothered. The thing Ark had learnt about therapists was that they liked to ask you questions and guide you to the solutions by making you answer those questions by yourself.
For Melmarc, Ark doubted there were any questions about himself or situations he found himself in that he had not already asked himself or was not already asking himself.
“Therapy it is,” Ark muttered to himself turning to the wall.
There, he found Spitfire. It looked as if it was standing on the wall, but it really wasn’t. what it was doing was attaching itself to the air and the countless tiny glitters of mana that littered the air.
It scratched at one of the mana follicles in annoyance and it sparked but nothing happened. Scratching again gave it the same problem and it looked at him with a frown.
“I don’t see why you’re annoyed,” he told it. “We already knew that this was could happen again.”
His interface popped up in front of him as he spoke.
[This world has been temporarily cut off from Existence.]
[You cannot open a portal out of it]
Ark sighed, dismissing the notification and turning to Spitfire. “I got the notification again. I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow night to try.”
With that, he went back to bed and laid down. His nights were boring now. They had been since Melmarc had come back and locked the world away.
He turned on his side and stared at Melmarc’s sleeping form in the corner.
“How long is this your lockdown going to be?” he muttered.